


Always Better on Jack

by SburbanMom



Category: BioShock
Genre: Angst, Atlas is Real, M/M, atlas isnt a dick hes just a sad sad man, au is explained, jack tries to be cool but hes jack, kind of a sucky ending but if this gets good feedback id love to write more, maybe some reconciliation at some point?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 16:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6665053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SburbanMom/pseuds/SburbanMom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wakey, wakey, Jack, it's time to send Atlas on the walk of shame. Get back to running that city while you're at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Better on Jack

**Author's Note:**

> Context: Rapture Neutral End. Atlas is real, and has been a prisoner of Fontaine since the submarine incident. Jack, upon defeating Fontaine, is given a way out of the city. With the help of Atlas and Tenenbaum, he begins reconstructive efforts to the once-glorious city of Rapture. Tenenbaum works tirelessly to rehabilitate splicers, while the ones who are beyond saving are killed quickly by any number of non-spliced citizens. Atlas, still recovering from the death of his wife and son, has taken to making a name for himself as a regular casanova, though more out of a need to quell the pain without the need for ADAM. Jack, who has established himself as a more just and foresighted leader than Ryan or Fontaine, rules the city with the intention of restoring it to a city of great renown. He and Atlas work side by side to fix the war-torn city and give it life once again.

Atlas is the first to wake up. He always is, even when he’s not flanking a soft and gently breathing human form. One hand comes up to rub his eyes, gain his bearings, make his escape, so to speak.  
And he remembers.  
He glances down at the still-slumbering body of one Jack Ryan, peacefully at rest and looking like a goddamn angel. It makes his heart skip a beat.  
I can spare a few more minutes. He thinks to himself, nestling in and closing his eyes. The warmth of Jack’s bare back on his chest and the lingering smell of saccharine sex comforts him.  
It’s this movement that stirs the other. He lets out a small noise and moves ever so slightly, causing Atlas to tense and shut his eyes. If he can play it off as “sorry, I forgot to leave last night”, maybe then he’ll be able to forgive himself.  
“Mmh- Atlas?”  
The voice is soft and low, groggy with sleep and bodily exhaustion. Atlas clenches his teeth. Don’t let go, don’t let him let go.  
“Atlas- you up? God damnit.” Jack mumbles, apparently too tired to address whatever was bothering him as he flops back down and yawns.  
Atlas smiles a little and breathes deeply, opening his eyes slowly. “G’mornin, boyo.”  
“G’mornin Atlas. I didn’t realize you’d still be here. Not that I’m complaining…”  
“Just forgot to go.”  
“Ah.” There’s an obvious hint of dejection in Jack’s voice, but he quickly tries to cover it up. “Anything I can get you before you head out? Coffee? Alcohol?”  
“Yeah, yeah, in a minute. Tryin’ to will my limbs to move.”  
“Oh, yeah, totally. S’no problem. I’ll get up and…”  
“No.” Atlas says it a little too quickly, and he tries to cover it up just as fast. “No, don’t, if you move it’ll be way too damn cold and son, I can’t handle that kind of thing.”  
Both parties are silent for a moment, but Jack nods and settles down again. Atlas gently tucks his face into Jack’s neck.  
“Hey, Atlas?”  
“What is it, boyo?”  
“Not that this is the first time you’ve heard it, but that was… fantastic.” He exhaled slightly, cocking his head ever so slightly. “A good shot of fresh Adam couldn’t hold a candle to that.”  
“‘Preciate it.” Atlas mumbles, a bit more pleased than he’d care to admit. He pulled Jack a tad closer and he felt the other wiggle a little to relax.  
They laid in silence for a few minutes, breathing in unison and tangled up together in a mess of limbs. Jack smelled faintly of sagebrush and mint shampoo. Well, and sweat. And Atlas.  
“You smell nice, boyo.”  
“Thanks?”  
“I mean it. You’d be surprised the beds I’ve woken up in smellin’ like bad fish.”  
“Y’did grow up by the docks.”  
“Son, are you implying I smell like fish?”  
“I’m implying that there’s a reason everything smelled like fish. But no. You smell like… like good wine and summer and really new leather.”  
“Huh.”  
“Sorry if that’s weird.”  
“Not at all.”  
Jack smiles a little to himself and shuts his eyes. “This isn’t bad. Don’t know when the last time is that I felt like this.”  
“Well, don’t get too comfortable.”  
“I know, I know. Just enjoying it while it lasts.”  
Atlas glances at him for a moment and almost feels bad for having said anything at all. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hold him. Hell, he could probably stay like this forever.  
“I’m actually really glad you’ve stayed this long.” Jack muses.  
“You’re pushin’ your limit.”  
“Ah, so be it.” He gripes, getting a chuckle out of Atlas. “Let’s be honest, Mister Bigshot. If you’d have been hot to trot, you’dve ditched me soon as we finished all this.”  
“Maybe you’re an inch right.”  
“I am.”  
“Maybe I should go.”  
“I never said that.”  
“You didn’t. M’reputation did.” Atlas mumbles, reluctantly pulling away and sitting up to rub the remaining sleep from his eyes. “Can’t ruin a good run like that, just can’t.”  
Jack sits up and watches the other swing his legs over the side of the bed and pull his clothing up off the floor. Atlas doesn’t want to look back at him. He knows there’s hurt in those tired eyes. There always was, with every person he ran away from his gnawing aches with. But this one hurts a lot more.  
“Still want any coffee?”  
“Nah. Can’t go acceptin’ charity.”  
“S’not charity.” Jack mumbles, retreating. “Toss me my sweater.”  
Atlas does as much and Jack tugs it on, scooting back and glancing out the window at Rapture’s underwater glory, grabbing a cigarette from the tattered box on the windowsill. With a flick, incinerate has started the end burning and glowing in the dim underwater light.  
Atlas finally risks a glance backwards at the other, sitting and watching pensively out the porthole. His eyes hold a ghostly pale, a lack of understanding that was simultaneously an understanding in full. Atlas couldn’t or didn’t want to love him, to spend time around him. And that was okay.  
That wasn’t okay, but he could pretend like it was.  
“Boyo?”  
“Mhm?”  
“You’re not gonna hold this against me, are you?”  
“Wasn’t planning on it.”  
Atlas sits for a moment, fully clothed and silent. Jack thumps his shoulder to drag him up from the murky depths of self-doubt.  
“You think I’m an idiot? Nah. Here.” He tosses him a cigarette. “Light?”  
“Please.” Atlas watches the other’s fingers glow white-hot and ignite the end of the cheap smoke before dulling back down to their usual peachy tone. Plasmids look so much better on Jack.  
“I won’t bother you.” Jack quips, a small smile on his face. “What happens in this room stays in this room, I’ll promise you that.”  
“S’not like we can’t still talk, boyo.” Atlas concedes, getting to his feet. “You think I’ll hang you out to dry because we got our shorts crossed?”  
“Wouldn’t put it past you.”  
There is another awkward silence before Jack clears his throat.  
“You can uh, you can go. I’ve got some things to work on. Don’t mind me.”  
“What things?”  
“Handling this city. Conferring with Tenenbaum about the girls. Rounding up your splicers.”  
“Ah, s’ppose that’s right.”  
“Oh, and picking up Dad’s mess.” He mumbles, sitting up and rubbing his head. “Don’t even know if I can call him that.”  
“It’s up to you. You’ve got quite a few dads at this point, dontcha?”  
“All of ‘em are dead.”  
“Still.”  
Jack chuckles to himself and puts out the cigarette in the ashtray hidden in the top drawer of the nightstand and wipes off his hands.  
“Okay, Atlas, fun is fun, but I do have things to do.”  
Atlas nods and steps towards the door, catching Jack’s arm when he walks by and startling the poor guy.  
“Listen.” Atlas grumbles, glancing off to the side a bit and sighing. Jack stares at him intently, shaking him off. “I ain’t been fair to you, half fair.”  
“Atlas, listen-”  
“No, no, you listen. It just ain’t like me to stay and-” He rubs his jaw, sighing and closing his eyes painedly. Jack pats his shoulder.  
“Before you continue, I know what you’re saying. I said it before, I’ll say it again. I don’t plan on holding anything against you. You want to revert to the good ‘ol days? Do I look like I’m gonna pursue the high? Have I ever?”  
“Guess not.”  
“Look, Atlas. I could love you more than Persephone is deep, or hate you with fires that rival Hephaestus. Neither would do a damn thing to make me wreak some… some godly vengeance. I’ve killed a lot of people, I’ve done a lot of… ugly shit. I like to think it doesn’t reflect on my character, but fuck if that’s even something that makes sense. Go. Take care of yourself, I’ll take care of me.”  
Atlas stared at him and furrows his brow. “Jack?”  
“Mmh?”  
“Do you love me?”  
“If I did, would it really make any difference? Please.” Jack cracks a prizewinning grin, but his eyes are brimming with unspent sadness and anger. “Look, you need a gun for the road?”  
“Nah.” Atlas lets his shoulders fall once again. “M’good.”  
“Fantastic. Let me know. Oh, and if you see any little sisters, send ‘em over here, would you?”  
“Sure.”  
“Thanks a million.”  
Atlas leaves, the heavy metal doors shutting behind him. Jack lets his shoulders slump as he sits back on the bed, pushing his hand into his hair and closing his eyes.  
“Would you kindly stop thinking about that?” He bites quietly to himself, wishing for a moment that his mental conditioning was alive and well to hear him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think, I'd love to write more for this AU but I won't unless there's some demand.
> 
> Check me out on tumblr at sburban-mom.tumblr.com!


End file.
